


Mercy for the Wretched

by arieldreemurr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is an Angel, Anxiety Attacks, British Politics, Dick Jokes, Explicit Language, F/F, Girl Penis, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of Cancer, Nudity, Racist Language, Religious Discussion, Rough Kissing, Scars, Sex, Trans Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Trans Female Character, Trans Moira O'Deorain, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arieldreemurr/pseuds/arieldreemurr
Summary: After many years of refusing, Dr Angela "Mercy" Ziegler accepts an invitation to Oasis, not fully knowing why.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. A University Evening

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a fairly straightforward 2 part wish-fulfillment romance fanfic. The first chapter is tame in it's content. The second will not be.

Angela Ziegler resented these sorts of gatherings. She wasn't adverse to social interaction, since she had a fundamental liking for people, but official, formal events made her uneasy. There was always a suit interested in her set of skills for less than noble purposes, or a group giving her unpleasant looks, or just sheer boredom on her own part due to having been to these exact same events a dozen times. She sighed as she stared out of the taxi window, as they sped past the impressive skyscrapers, towers, and other feats of architecture of Oasis, standing brilliantly against the orange evening sky.  
"How far are we from our destination?" she asked her driver, cordially.  
"Not far now, Ma'am. Only approximately two more more minutes," responded the Omnic in the front seat.  
She had been encouraged to dress her best for this event, so Angela, albeit reluctantly, had done her best to comply. She donned a white dress, the thin fabric best for the sweltering heat, highlighted by a pink stripe from her right shoulder down to her left armpit, and a cool light blue from her left thigh to her right knee. She always appreciated diagonal stripes. She had painted her left and right nails respectively in accordance to this colour scheme. She felt good. She felt proud. Her blonde hair was ponytailed and combed over as usual, though. She didn't owe her hosts everything.  
These hosts in question made her especially nervous. For the past few years she had been repeatedly invited to the Oasis University formal gathering, to meet some of the alleged greatest minds in the world. It was flattering that they considered Angela to be among them, but she harboured a deep mistrust and resentment towards the Ministers. They were fundamentally untrustworthy, and their morals were dubious. And they had _her_...  
Angela knew that Dr O'Deorain was going to be at this event. She dreaded having to see her again. Her ambition was unchecked, her morals flexible, and, with her way of thinking being associated with those behind the last crisis, she may very well be the author of the world's demise. But what Angela resented the most was how much they agreed in certain areas.  
 _Am I a monster?_  
No, of course not. She had dedicated her entire life to helping others. It's what her parents would have wanted. But O'Deorain would say the same thing.   
Despite the heat, she shivered.  
  
The taxi pulled up and hovered outside of the Oasis University. Angela thanked and tipped her driver, before cautiously tip-toeing through the moderately dense crowd of other guests towards the entrance archway. Of course, this appearence of sneaking was fruitless, for guards were positioned at the entrance - two large, heavily armoured men, wearing tactical visors and carrying assault rifles.   
"Are you on the guest list?" one asked, formally.   
"I... I..." she mouthed in distress. "D-Doctor Angela... Ziegler...?" she fumbled, as she produced her ID card and digital invite on her phone.   
The other man appeared concerned. "Dr Ziegler? Are you quite alright?"  
"J-just a moment," she requested as she withdrew to sit on a bench away from the entrance, breathing heavily, her heart beating relentlessly. Why had she agreed to come here? This was a terrible idea. She knew there would be guards, but their level of arms meant that the people inside were considered powerful enough to have the most severe threats against them. What if they all died?  
 _Breathe, Angela. It's going to be ok_.  
But was it going to be ok? Were her instincts correct? Or was Moira housed in her head rent-free again? What was she going to do?  
"Hey, Angela. Are you ok?" came a voice behind her. German. She was speaking German.  
A woman in a light green traditional Indian dress took a seat next to her, her face full of concern.  
German it was. "Oh... I know you..."  
This made Satya Vaswani's face light up. "You remember me!"  
How could she not? They had worked together with Overwatch in the past.  
She managed a weak smile. "Hello, Satya. Are you still working with Vishkar?"  
She grinned proudly at this. "I like people who get right to the point. No, actually. It turns out that corporations prioritise their own bottom line before housing the poor and vulnerable."  
"Go figure. Smart girl."  
Satya laughed at this. "I can't believe it took me so long. Lucio really was quite intelligent in his observations, after all."  
Angela sighed. "What happened to the world?" she murmured whilst looking up towards the evening sky.  
"A lot of progress, but simultaneously not much. One step forward, two steps back, or however the adage goes."  
"So... how are you doing right now, Satya?"  
She seemed to roll her eyes at this. "Let's stop deflecting. Your ninja friend does it better. I want to know how you're doing, Dr Ziegler." Her face was serious again. "I saw you and I worried. I don't like it when people are distressed. And I know distress."  
She figured that she may as well be straightforward with her. "I dislike these sorts of gatherings. I don't know the people here - well, except for the obvious - but they are important people. Improtant people that I don't exactly see eye to eye with. Have you seen the guards? The controversy that they exhibit could put us all in danger."  
"I think you're overthinking things," Satya responded bluntly. "I know another neurodivergent person when I see one. You suffer frequent anxiety, don't you?"  
"Yes..." she confessed. "The people here can only exacerbate this state."  
The other woman didn't seem quite sure what to say for a while, so they sat in silence, marvelling at the pretty city lights. Oasis was such a technical achievement. Angela truly did appreciate the sentiment behind a city in which the greatest minds could congregate. The fact that it was sustainable in this vast desert was a testament to human progress. But it also felt arrogant. Like it hinged on the presupposition that we could control nature.  
Suddenly, Satya spoke up. "Dr O'Deorain is looking forward to seeing you."  
"Moira's sarcasm is appreciated."  
"Against the reductive stereotypes, I can actually detect sarcasm very well, Dr Ziegler. She seemed genuine in her excitement."  
 _Oh, great..._  
For a moment, Angela considered calling a cab and never even showing up to the event, but that would hardly be professional. At least Satya was there, she supposed. If all else failed, she could stick with her.  
"I think it's time to go in," the younger woman said.  
"Ok..." murmured Angela with a weak smile. "Let's go."  
  
The libraries of Oasis University were not in what would have been their regular sparse, quiet state tonight - rather they were bustling with people. A sea of knowledge of a crowd within another sea of knowledge. How appropriate.   
She had already been split from Satya, who was over with several sharply dressed academics by the "Architecture" section of the library, already pretending to laugh with them, likely regarding some triviality that she knew Satya wouldn't have found amusing at all. She could tell by the inflection.   
Angela took the leftmost archway to slip out of the busy library, and into a smaller adjacent room. The bar. Super.  
There were a few small groups spaced around the room, some seated at tables, some standing. Some of which she recognised. Reiner Burke with his wife and another man she didn't recognise; a controversial figure, of which she wasn't a fan. The elderly Dr Bedelia Harris with a group of women; she liked her papers from when she studied at university. An omnic by the name of Phi who had written an award winning paper on human psychology of all things was chatting with Doctors Hirasawa and Freeman over in the corner. They all seemed to be having a much more productive time than Angela.  
She took a seat at the bar, to which she ordered a still water, with ice. Daring tonight. After tipping the bartender, she took her glass outside, and proceeded across the dias of the oddly designed interior to the other library.  
It was much quieter over at this side. Not many people seemed to be hanging about, save for a few women she didn't recognise and pioneers in cloning, Doctors Featherstone and Coomer, the latter of which was rumoured to be a distant relative of Albert Einstein.   
Angela decided to avoid these people, and walked between the shelves of the library, looking for the medicine section. Whether it was vanity or curiosity, she could not say - probably both, if she was to be honest with herself - but she decided that she may as well take a look to see if they stocked any of her works in the library. She had published four books and they were fairly well-regarded in the medical community, after all.  
She turned a corner, and knew she was in the medicine section. Before her, in the same aisle, holding open and intently reading a copy of Dr Ziegler's own "The Value of Mercy" was the last person in the world she wanted to run into. At this angle, her long shadow was cast under the rosy lights, almost enveloping Angela. She was wearing a stunning three piece suit - a stylish blue jacket and tie, a pink buttoned up vest and trousers, white underneath - her brilliant short red hair combed and slick with precision, ablaze; and she turned and smiled, her angular features accentuated, the wondrous blue and red heterochromia of her eyes casting a spell. Moira O'Deorain.  
Angela could hardly articulate the reaction. "Ah... Doctor O'Deorain... I didn't..."  
"... expect to find me perusing the library? Darling, you know me better than that."  
Oh no. She was playing coy. There was a sardonic, yet seductive edge to her voice.  
"I find it lovely that you came all this way just to see little old me. That's where all roads seem to inevitably lead for you." By God, it was like honey.  
"I... I... should probably go get some air..." managed Angela, before turning and running.  
  
Once again outside, this time under the blessed shade of a palm tree on an isolated bench in the tranquil university gardens surrounded by evergreen hedges to block out who else might have there, Angela downed her ice cold drink in a few gulps. She was sweating, and it wasn't due to the desert heat.  
She buried her head in her hands. Why had she come here? Did she really accept this invitation to come to discuss theory? To speak to the brightest? She could just read their material for that.  
 _Mein Gott... I've already embarrassed myself._  
"Hola."   
If it were anatomically possible, Angela would have jumped out of her own skin as the troublesome hacker materialised beside her, in her standard purple garb, hair parted back. It was a miracle that she didn't burn to death in that coat, but to be fair, Oasis was a miracle.  
"Sombra, how long have you been following me?" she sighed, exasperated.  
"I saw you running away from Doctor Feelgood in the library, and then you came out here. It was amusing."  
"I'm glad you're pleased..." Angela muttered bitterly. "Why are you here? You obviously weren't invited."  
"I wanted to see Satya," she responded unapologetically. "I was in town, doing a job - you know how it is."  
"You... probably shouldn't discuss your criminal activities with me, Sombra?"  
She cocked her head and grinned. "Or what, Mercy? You gonna call Overwatch to stop me from ripping off a couple of scumbag CEOs?"  
"Just make sure the lives of the workers improve. And no killing. Or I will stop you." Yes, she wasn't the neutral arbiter of law and order like Jack or Ana anymore. The injustices of the world had weighed on her for too long to naively enforce it's every power structure.  
"I'm a professional," laughed Sombra. "Everyone will be off better. Including me. Especially me."  
Angela considered for a moment. "So where does Ms Vaswani come into this?"  
She shrugged. "Oh, I just dropped by the university to surprise an old flame. Isn't that why you're here, eh, Mercy?"   
She wasn't going to dignfy this with a response.   
The two sat silently and awkwardly for some time before Sombra booped her nose.  
"Hey! What gives?!" demanded Angela, reflexively pulling back.  
"Just seeing if you're awake, is all."  
"I clearly am."   
"Good. So, how's the rekindling going?"  
"I... don't know what you mean."  
"What I mean is..." she began, "that you two clearly have something on hold. And you obviously still have feelings for her."  
"I despise Moira O'Deorain!" Angela yelled, springing to her feet. "She's a disgrace to the field of science, and to Overwatch."  
"Which is why you're red in the face, huh, Mercy?" teased Sombra. "Tell you what: if it doesn't go well, me and Satya would be delighted to have you over. It's Room 627 in case you're interested. Bye bye." And she was off. When Angela checked the hedge that she disappeared behind, the hacker was nowhere to be found.  
 _Damnit_.   
  
Back to the bar again. Under this unpleasant mixture of heat and stress, she could only manage water. She considered the benefits of getting drunk tonight, but knew that it would be an irresponsible choice, no matter how much she wanted to dull her senses.  
"Pour two glasses of red wine, one for me and another for the lady. It's on me."   
Before she could respond, Moira suddenly occupied the barstool closest leftwards.  
"You look how I feel," she observed, probably taking note of the bags under Angela's eyes from the lack of sleep lately.  
 _Cordial, Angela. Play it cool..._  
"Oh really? What is wrong on your end, Dr O'Deorain?"  
"I'm tired, Herr Doctor." It was that toothy grin again. She hated it, or at least told herself that she did. "I have a speech to give and, full disclosure, I didn't prepare, so it looks like I'll have to ad-lib."  
"That must be inconvenient..."  
As the bartender handed the two of them their glasses, the swirling liquid blood red and still bubbling, the Swiss doctor noticed that the Irish one was looking her dress up and down, still half-grinning.  
"How coincidental..." murmured Moira, "It appears that the two of us are rooting for Hangzhou Spark this season. I didn't know that you were into that sort of thing."  
"Whatever euphemism that was, it went over me," responded Ziegler, knowing full well what she was actually gesturing towards.  
"More's the pity. We'll have to talk about it later."  
She noticed that Moira wore a singular silky white glove over her right hand that she was seemingly subconsciously tapping her own leg with. Moira couldn't have been nervous... could she?  
"No thank you," Angela pushed, semi-assertively, "I did not come here to converse with the likes of you."  
"Then why else did you accept the invitation?" she asked, still playing coy.  
Silence.  
Angela took this uncomfortable moment to drink.  
Then, Moira spoke quickly. "I'm glad to see you again, Angel. Genuinely." And the Irishwoman retreated.   
After some time, Angela found herself mouthing something to herself in long belated response, but what it was she could not fully say.   
  
The main hall was large and rectangular, with a raised stage at the head. For such a well-funded university, it was surprisingly quaint, with none of the grandeur of the great archways and libraries. The floor was wooden tiles, and the walls were only sparsely decorated with the framed portraits of notable academics that had studied here. She liked it, all things considered. Very cosy.  
The hall was jam-packed with people, who had all seemed to congregate for what must have been Moira's talk later on. Not too sure who she would talk to, Angela was jumped by Satya, who seemed to be in high spirits.   
"Angela! You came!"  
"You seem pleased."  
Satya was momentarily flustered. "Uh... yes... I got a text from a... friend."  
The two laughed - the best medicine for acknowledging the unspoken truth.  
"So..." Symmetra began, "Have you met with the good doctor yet?"  
"Unfortunately..." was the response.   
The girl continued to giggle. "Oh, you're red in the face. I know why you're really here. The men, women, and those elsewhere that congregate at this event - you don't care about any of this. You're here for her."  
"Uh..." Oh no. She was sweating again.  
"Dr O'Deorain personally sent the invitation. You didn't come those other years. But this time..."  
She may as well confess. This circular denial wasn't doing anyone any good.  
"Ok..." she took a deep breath. "I was curious. The doctor fascinates me. For as repugnant as I tell myself she is... I can't justify it. Her funding from Talon? What choice did she have? I'm partly responsible for blacklisting her from Overwatch. I tell myself that she's awful for her use of human test subjects..."  
Satya put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You know that they all volunteered. Human test subjects aren't easy to come across - so Talon offered to bring in prisoners and even criminals. She told them all to go to hell."  
"You mean...?"  
"Yes. Everyone submitted themselves enthusiastically. They were dying, Dr Ziegler. And she has saved the lives of well over three quarters of them."  
Mercy was shaking. She knew it to be true. Moira was well-regarded for her efficiency, but also praised for making breakthroughs previously thought impossible.   
Angela knew her to be an exceptionally brave woman - breaking procedure to experiment on herself if it was to achieve the best results. There was something admirable in Moira.  
But she had created the Reaper.  
"I came because I wanted to see her..." she whispered.   
Satya nodded knowingly, as Angela continued. "Before things got bad... and we had our... disagreements... we..."  
"I know."  
Hesitantly, she confessed. "And I decided that after all this time, I'm ready."  
"She's been ready for all this time, Angela."  
The two cordially shook hands, before Angela threw her arms around the architect. The two hugged for several long moments. "Thank you for stopping me from turning back..." she continued to whisper. "Have a lovely evening. You and your special one."  
Satya smiled at this as they disengaged, and nodded in mutual acknowledgement.   
Almost as if right on schedule, the lights dimmed, and the stage across the hall illuminated a sweet purple, as all eyes turned to the woman standing with the mic before a podium, taking on an ethereal quality through this atmosphere.  
It seemed early, but Moira was never one to follow direct protocol.   
"Hello, Ladies, Gentlemen, those betwixt and beyond, friends, doctors, academics - would you kindly lend me your ears?"  
Total silence. Angela and Satya had their interests peaked. The floor belonged to Moira.  
She started with her usual snark. "Now I don't do this sort of thing often, since speeches, on a similar level to dancing, cleaning, and interacting with all of you, aren't exactly my forte."  
Mild laughter among the audience. Angela had heard enough speeches to know when this was forced.  
"In fact, I'm essentially winging it. I have no script - I'm talking with no real prompt." She briefly turned the podium to show that there was nothing written on the paper before her besides 'Talk Shit About Science' crudely and diagonally scrawled, which elicited more genuine laughter.   
"Anyways, so I figured that I would begin with some news. I'm closer than ever to perfecting the process of cellular regeneration. It's completion would be a huge step forward to curing diseases previously thought incurable. It... took a long time... and many sacrifices."  
This made Angela especially nervous. The first "success" to any degree had been Gabriel Reyes.  
"These sacrifices are a heavy burden to bear... I recently had only one of a group of seven volunteers pass away under my care. I spent all night sitting with the corpse, catatonic from my failure. It was rough. He had a late stage degenerative condition, but I still felt responsible for hastening his passing. He probably could have had some more time - he was so full of life, so enthusiastic to use his body in hope that others wouldn't have to suffer as he did. But now he's gone."  
Angela observed closely. Was Moira... crying?  
She removed her glove to wipe her damp eyes, and raised her scarred, purple, veiny mess of a right hand to show to the audience.  
"As you know, I've taken other risks. Self experimentation is highly controversial and discouraged, and even I knew it could have terrible consequences. But fruit was borne from these risky procedures, and I had the added the bonus of being able to punish myself for my sins."  
Her eyes were still twinkling from the momentary tears.  
"When I think of that man, lying on the slab, his lifeless eyes gazing into my soul, I think not of the six people that I was able to save - I can only think of a failure to achieve the perfect result. Just one death, any death, is the greatest failure of all. That's a person with a life, goals, dreams, and loved ones - and they should have lived for as long as they could. That's my profound guilt."  
This wasn't the Moira that she had pushed so hard against. This was someone else entirely. Someone that she hadn't been allowed to see, even seemingly at their closest.  
"And that's why I put my faith in science. Because I have to. I have to use all the available methods to make sure that humanity has a fighting chance. We're such fragile creatures, in the grand scheme of things."  
She had heard this before, of course. But she worried about what Moira's unchecked ambition could unleash in the wrong circumstances.  
"I'm this close to reaching what we could only have dreamed of, and it is frightening. But I swear to you, I am doing everything that I can. My research has the capacity to extend lifespans, to cure cancer, protect against the worst nature has to throw at us. That's my goal. That's my dream."  
When put like that, it seemed admirable. She seemed earnest. But Reyes...  
"When I was a lad I was encouraged to accept my lot in life. Told I couldn't change nature's course - God's plan. My family were a religious bunch - but they got me thinking about God, and what my relationship would be to Him. I like to believe that it's not so much antagonistic as it is fulfilling what I saw as the true goal of humankind: to take care of each other, and to constantly push for progress. I owe my life to science. Owe who I am to science. Just like my state as a child, so long ago, I learned that the building blocks of humankind are not as immutable as I had been raised to believe."  
She was clearly improvising by this point, and rambling, as she was often prone to, but there was undoubtedly something about her words that Angela understood. Their goals were similar enough: help humanity - protect the weak, heal the sick, save the world. Wasn't that the ethos of Overwatch? But Mercy had insisted that Overwatch discredit Moira...  
"But I don't know if God is real. For all we can do, we can't know that. Our only recourse is to simply be good people. I hope one day I can be considered one."  
There was some mumbling among the crowd.  
"But do you know what I do believe in? Angels. Because Angels are real and on this earth. A testament to that is Dr Angela Ziegler."  
 _What_?  
The faces in the crowd turned towards the back of the hall, where the dumbstruck Ziegler and proud Vaswani stood. "I told you she was glad you were coming," whispered the latter.  
"I have made many mistakes in the name of science. I told myself that I was rolling up my sleeves and doing what I had to. In many ways I crossed lines that I rationalised to myself to be pointless. But I was wrong. After my greatest mistake, I was rightfully taken to task over it. Dr Ziegler was there to remind me of my mistakes. To anchor me to my humanity."  
She extended her scarred arm.  
"She's what I wished I was. A peerless healer. A staunch advocate for peace. An unambiguously good soul. She's my hero."  
The hall erupted into applause, and Angela could only stand there, staring into the other doctor's eyes from across the room. She could see now - the tears were back in Moira's eyes, but only one rolled down her most radiant face. She felt those same tears creeping down her own.  
  
As night fell, she knew that for the first time in years, they needed to talk for real.


	2. That Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter contains Nudity, Sex, and references to both The Troubles and specifically British Transphobia.

It was late, and the guests had begun to withdraw for the night, giving Angela much more room to breathe, pace, and collect her thoughts. The corridors and libraries still felt claustrophobic, somehow.   
Satya had left shortly after the speech, to which Angela figured that she and Sombra were probably busy, for whatever good that did. Regardless, she knew that she had to play the active part this time around, and initiate a conversation with Dr O'Deorain.  
She knew where she could find her, and made her way back to the medicine section of the second library.   
Sure enough, there she was, once again with Angela's book.  
"You came back." She didn't seem surprised.   
"Yes."  
She filed the book back away, alphabetically of course, in the middle shelf.  
"Do you speak this well of all of your exes?" inquired Mercy. "Or just me?"  
Moira smirked at this. "None of them had as much of a lasting impact."  
"I blacklisted you. I buried your research. Didn't that bother you?"  
"Of course. But I also had a lot of time for self reflection."  
"Enough obfuscation, Moira. How much of your speech was genuine?"  
Those lips curved into that toothy grin again. "How much of it did you want to be genuine?"  
"Vaswani is convinced you're a saint."  
"Can't one be a saint and a sinner?"  
Mercy scoffed at this. "It depends on how you define both."  
Moira furrowed her brow. She seemed tired. "I ask that you believe my sadness towards those who passed." She took a long sigh. "And that I have tremendous respect for you."   
"Am I your hero, though?"   
"You are, in some ways," she continued. "What I said was true. You are truly incorruptible. You're also smart. I admire that your technology is less crude and more overall useful than mine."  
_Ah_.  
"So you admire me for my utility?"  
Moira let out an unsettling, throaty laugh in response to this, reverberating around the library. "Can't you ever take a compliment? I just called you incorruptible." She leaned in closer. "I do wish I was you."  
"I have my share of regrets, too."  
"Regrets?" The smile now seemed more twisted and sinister. "I made mistakes. Bad things happened. But I have no regrets. Why regret what cannot be changed? I do cry sometimes. But my mistakes serve an everlasting push - for learning."  
"You're... glad when you fail?"  
She shook her head disappointedly and condescendingly gestured with an exasperated facepalm. "You still don't get it, do you? Of course not. I can simultaneously take a moment to grieve, and then use that failure to hopefully fuel a future success."  
Angela no longer knew what to say. It seemed incoherent. "Your morals are so bizarre, Moira."  
Moira let out another sigh. "For a genius, things are so simplistic with you, Angela. One of the reasons I admire and envy you, really. You always get to be in the right."  
Angela had reached the end of her tether. "I didn't create the Reaper, Moira!" she yelled, accusationally pointing her finger with agression. "Get your own morals in order."  
"My morals are as pure as yours, Angela. We're both doctors by trade, and we do what we do for the same reasons: we want to maximise human wellbeing and push for a better future. Our ethics are different. There's a distinction."  
Mercy pushed the other doctor against the bookcase and held her there with both hands on her shoulders with considerable force. "Why..." the former cried, feeling tears coming again, "are you... such a pedantic bitch...?"  
The amused expression on Moira's face had completely dissipated, leaving only a tired glower.   
_What am I doing_...?  
Angela leaned further towards Moira and placed her lips over hers.  
Moira placed her hands around the doctor's head, and stroked her hair back, whilst reciprocating the kiss.  
They held this position for a few moments, before Angela pulled back, horrified with herself for what she had just done. "I... oh no... that was bad..."  
"I don't think it was, at all," grinned Moira, as she rushed forward to plant another long kiss on the doctor's lips. Dominant. In control. It felt good. Her head tilted back, enjoying this - Moira was essentially pushing down on her from above - and she didn't want it to stop, but found herself pulling back again regardless.  
"Tell me this..." she whispered. "Do you at least regret Reyes? Please tell me that you at least regret Reyes. Concede this one point point to me, please."  
"I... gave life. It was the first time."  
"Answer the question or I leave right now."  
Moira began raising a finger as if to say something, before her face changed, and decided against it. "Ok. Fine. I regret that one of my greatest breakthroughs... was born of such dire circumstances. I regret the terrible things that I inadvertently enabled. No... directly enabled."  
"The worst thing is that I still don't know if you're being sincere."  
In response to this accusation, Moira saw it as her turn to push Angela against the bookcase and hold onto the latter's arms, stretching them to the sides like a crucifixion.  
_Angels_...  
"How sincere do you think this is?" asked the former, leaning in closer to her face.  
"I don't care for you coming this close..." responded Mercy, pushing her back, before advancing towards her and once again kissing her on her own terms.  
After they stopped, they both found themselves breathing heavily, apparently exhausted to some degree.  
"You have no idea how long I've waited to do that again..." muttered Moira.  
"I hate you so much," returned Angela, "and likewise."  
Moira began to laugh again, but this time it wasn't throaty, instead quiet titters coming from behind a parted lipped smile revealing clenched teeth. Despite how unsettling the image was, Angela had to admit that her dimples were striking as ever.  
Why was she focusing on that?  
"Moira... why do you play up this creepy, borderline villainous look so much?"  
"Oh, you know you love it, Angel. You like how it makes you feel more virtuous."  
"I... don't know if you're a villain," she admitted. "All I know is that right now, in this moment, I have ceased to care."  
"That's the attitude that I like," Moira replied, with an excited passion in her tone that should have made her nervous. "Do you want to carry on?"  
Without thinking. Without hesitation. Without regret. "Yes..."

Moira's room wasn't particularly spacious, but she never seemed to be the type that emphasised comfort. Across the floor was a large, burgundy rug, which seemed to contradict that analysis due to it's fluffy edges, and the cute pattern of pale diamonds that contrasted brilliantly. Against the wall to the far side was a small, single bed, it's white covers splayed out, unmade, and a singular pillow at the head. She must have been a rough sleeper, by the looks of things. Covering the desk beside the bed was a pile of open books, and laptop on standby. It seemed like a lonely place to work, but Angela had to admit that the view from this high beyond the glass into the vibrant lights of the city at night was something to behold. The city truly was a technical marvel.  
"Impressive, isn't it?" asked Dr O'Deorain, clinically.  
"I suppose it is..." sighed Angela, conceding this battle before it had begun.  
"Yes... look at what human progress has brought," Moira mused in response, staring out of the wondow.  
"Don't you ever get tired of it?"   
Moira turned, her face a mixture of confusion and amusement. "What do I have to be tired of?"  
"You said it on stage. I know it's true. You don't have to deny it anymore."  
Moira opened the fridge under her desk and retrieved two wine glasses. "Red, white, or otherwise?"  
"I think I've had enough tonight. My mind misgives."  
"Fair. Me too, in all honesty," Moira responded, pouring out two glasses of water.  
"Thank goodness," murmured Angela, downing the entire glass in a few short gulps. "I'm not much for the heat."  
"I do miss the rain from back home," admitted Moira, sipping her own water, "but I do enjoy warmth in moderation. I'm visiting family over in Ireland in a few months, at least. Still, the fact that living here is sustainable in this heat is yet another testament to science."  
"Let's not speak any more of science - I think we've both had enough of that for a night, too."  
"Not even biology?"   
The two doctors smirked at each-other, before the latter wandered to the corner wardrobe to remove and hang up her blue jacket with the others. For someone who seemed so often self-serious, Dr O'Deorain possessed a wide array of colours, at least for her relatively similar suits. She then unbuttoned and cast off her vest and tie, throwing them onto the ground and breathing a sigh of relief whist kicking off her shoes.  
_Oh god, she's barefoot_...  
"Sometimes I dress too well," she teased, "but I feel less constrained now."   
Now only in her trousers and shirt, she seemed more akin to an informal student than an esteemed scientist.   
"Still very stylish, admittedly."  
Moira was clearly enjoying this, grinning as she sat down on her bed. "You want to join me?"  
_So soon_?  
Angela chose to deflect, but didn't choose the most effective subject to do so.   
"You know, Moira..." She had to say it. Admit it. "In my own way, I've always admired and appreciated you too."  
Moira beamed with more pride than a rainbow flag.  
"I-In a... professional sense..." continued Angela, fumbling with her words. "Definitely... professional."  
Moira's face defaulted and her voice became blunt. "Angela, we've already made out - and quite violently, at that. Do you want to sleep with me or not?"  
Angela burst out laughing. She couldn't help it - it was, after all, the best medicine. Moira seemed to have a mutual understanding of this, her lips cuving into an uncharacteristically kindly smile for her - or at least her professional image.  
Now that the pretences were over, Angela was upfront. "Why do you think I came all this way?"  
As Moira stood, they were interrupted by the catchy tune that was buzzing from Angela's phone.  
Moira's eyes widened. "Is your ringtone A Cruel Angel's Thesis?"  
She scowled, half playfully, half seriously as she fumbled to produce her phone. "That's embarassing... Yes... I took up your anime recommendations... I regret to inform you that I actually like some of them."  
Moira seemed pleased with herself as Angela answered the phone without even looking at who the caller was.  
"Hello, love!" came a familiar English voice from the other end.  
"Lena? This is... a surprise."   
Angela looked awkwardly to Moira, the latter's face bizzarly contorting and struggling to hold back laughter.  
"Yeah, sorry about that. I was bored. Emily is away on work, so I have no-one to have a chat with. But then I remembered that you were going over to Oasis for a conference, so I thought I'd check to see how you're doing."  
_How considerate_...  
"I'm doing... ok."  
"That's good!"  
"You know this isn't on mission, right, Tracer? You don't have to check on my well-being."  
"Sorry about that."  
"It's ok..." she continued to look at Moira, as Angela rolled her eyes to indicate her annoyance. "How are you?"  
"Oh, you know how it is, love. Same old, same old. I'm doing fine."  
"That's good..." she said weakly, despairing at the hour. Lena mustn't have considered her time zones. Again.   
The two spoke for some time, about nothing, really, until Tracer said goodbye. In her own way.   
"Cheers, love! See you around."   
And they hung up, after which Angela let out a sigh of relief.   
Moira raised one eyebrow, and mockingly asked "The Brit, then?"  
_Oh no. Here it comes._  
"Yes..."  
"They simply can't keep getting away with this," Moira predictably said - jokingly but with a slight hint of lingering malice.  
"You still haven't forgiven the British, have you?"  
Moira picked her glass back up, and drank the rest of the water to prepare for her inevitable rant.  
"How can I, Angela? They always look for someone to blame for their own inadequacies. Right now it's our omnic friends. But it's been so many others in the past. I'm Irish, Angela. How they treated my people was monstrous. I'd say it's my god-given right to at least make fun of them from time to time."  
"These are old wounds, Moira. Please let them heal," implored Angela, now concerned.  
Moira had closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. "But you know the real reason why I'm uneasy around that cursed island... I went to Oxford, Angela. Some of my professors..."  
"I know... But you know most regular people aren't like that. The bad ones were amplified by corrupt institutions. Trust me, Lena is lovely. Her girlfriend is like us, you know."  
Moira gave a sad smile. "I'm sorry... It's really very immature of me to hold grudges due to the actions of the few." Something was dripping down her face. A tear.  
"It's a better world now, though," reassured Angela, as she sat on the bed next to Moira.  
She suddenly felt Moira's head against her shoulder.   
"I feel so old..." the redhead whispered. "I grew up in a shittier world. You remember it, right?"  
"I do..." the blonde responded.  
"The professors said what they said, and did what they did. They kept saying that they were doing it to protect women... well, what about me? I didn't feel protected. But I didn't count for them."  
Angela put an arm over her shoulder, and reassured her. "You've always counted. They're gone, and you're here. We're here. We outlived their ideas."  
As Moira's head turned towards her, Angela parted her lips and leaned in with a gentle kiss, lingering for a while.  
"Thank you, Angel..." Moira murmured, and stood. "I need to use the bathroom. You'll wait for me, right?"  
"Of course."  
And with that, Moira disappeared into the bathroom.  
Angela took this as an opportunity to lie on her back on the other woman's bed. It wasn't particularly comfortable. The scattered sheets were, or course, not helping, but the mattress itself was bumpy. How could Moira sleep in this?  
Poor Moira. Despite everything, Angela found herself feeling immensely sorry for her. As a child in Switzerland she had known fairly early exactly who she really was, and her parents had supported her every step of the way.  
_My parents_...  
They were gone now. Everyone had lost something back during the crisis.  
Regardless, she knew that Moira had started to transition at 19, and so was subject to the closest scrutiny from those around her. It didn't help that many of the British academics she studied under were trans-exclusionary, and had made things difficult for her. Maybe that was why she presented herself the way she did. They were all shaped by their environments. And now Moira was altering the very building blocks of life.   
The door opened, and out emerged the good doctor, tossing her shirt aside into the pile of clothes. Her body was lean, perhaps too thin to be considered healthy; her glove off and her pulsating veiny hand also for show. She wore a black bra, but Angela didn't stare, more concerned by the faint hint of scarring across her abdomen.  
Moira leaned within the doorway, her face sunken and sad.   
"Why do you think I do what I do, Mercy? Because I don't know anymore."  
"Only you can answer that."  
Moira considered for a moment, before signing and muttering "I don't know. I look to change things. Make things better. But I don't know if it's out of altruism. I don't know if I got into this for the right reasons. I feel like I just... am. I mean, after what I went through, trying to change human anatomy... it seemed like such a brave, important thing to do - like there were others like me, who were counting on my success. Maybe that's true. Maybe that was true. But maybe I was motivated by hatred. Maybe my hatred and anger towards nature itself was what drove me to take all of these risks..."  
"You don't have to explain yourself," assured Angela, now standing.   
Moira slowly made her way towards her, dragging her feet, before suddenly grabbing hold of Angela's waist, pulling her close, and kissing her with a prolonged passion, her eyes closed, utterly entrenched in this moment. In response, Angela pushed her tongue forward, but it seemed that the other woman was thinking the same thing, and as they met, Moira opened her eyes and retracted, allowing Angela to assume the dominant position; before lowering the redhead down to her bed, her hands behind her waist and head, like how one would reach the climax of a performance with their dance partner.  
But they were just getting started.  
As the sad doctor lay on her bed, Angela reached to Moira's belt and clumsily unfastioned it, catching her palm on the edge of the prickly buckle, but grinning through the pain, and casting it aside. She pulled her own dress up over her head, and cast it into the pile with Moira's shirt.  
"You are so beautiful..." muttered Moira, transfixed and subdued. "I could never..."  
"Shh..." Angela kissed her again, this time on the forehead.  
The two of them, almost simultaneously, unfastened each-other's bras, and tossed them aside, followed by Angela gently running her finger down from Moira's neck to chest, causing her to gasp weakly. But she continued, further down, to her trousers...  
"Are you sure about this...?" Moira asked. "I kept the proverbial caduceus staff."  
Mercy was suddenly taken out of it entirely, standing up and backing off. "How...? I have it locked down... It's important technology. You STOLE it?!" She couldn't believe this. Somehow, O'Deorain was playing her. She knew it. Of course. Had she invited her over so that she would be separated from her lab? Her technology? Her-   
"Hey, are you ok?" she asked, now standing, with a look of genuine concern. "You're acting like you don't know what a euphemism is."  
_Oh_.  
Moira unbuttoned her trousers, and let them drop. "Said euphemism," she announced.   
"A-Ahh..." stuttered Angela. "Mine is... no longer present."  
"Oh, you left it at the lab?" Moira smirked.  
"Fuck you," she giggled, playfully.   
"Fuck me yourself, coward."   
Not one to be called a coward, Mercy moved in on the objective.  
  
_"I do like the name Angela... I do believe it means Angel..."_  
_Mother considered for a moment. "Isn't that a quote from that movie you hate...?"_  
_"I never really considered that... but I do like the name. I feel a strong connection to it..."_  
_"Whatever you like, sweetie..."_  
_Mother... Father... you never questioned any of it... Thank you..._

Angela woke up, a brilliant orange dawn settling outside. She was lying beside Moira in the incredibly narrow bed, the two women completely naked. It took a moment for her to collect her thoughts, before recalling what the two had done in the night.   
A pulsating, veiny hand found it's way onto her shoulder. The other doctor's eyes eased open.  
"How are you doing...?" asked Moira.  
"I'm tired..." she murmured.   
Angela sat upright, as Moira, still laying down, softly kissed her abdomen.   
"You have to go, don't you?" muttered Moira.  
"Yes. I do. Soon."  
"Your colleagues... if they knew about this..."  
"I know."  
Moira sat up, her face sunken and her expression sullen. "Still... it was nice while it lasted." She gave her best attempt at a bittersweet smile, before she started shaking. And then she balled her eyes out.  
Angela held her, stroking her hair. "You're going to be ok. You're going to be ok..."  
"I've done so many terrible things..." she sobbed. "I don't deserve you..."  
"Shh..."  
They remained in this position for a while, until the tears were mostly dry.   
"It's ok... I'm ok..." sniffed Moira. "Let's... get dressed."  
"Good plan."  
The two doctors did their best to get their faculties in order, Angela borrowing a shirt and pair of trousers from Moira's wardrobe, making sure to find her phone amidst the mess from last night.   
"You know, I'd love to see you in a suit," smirked Moira.  
Angela smiled back. "It's good to see you in a better mood."  
"I try."  
"That's just how we have to be. We have to keep trying."   
"Forever and ever."  
"Amen."

**A Few Months Later**

  
After the sweltering heat of Oasis, Antarctica seemed to be the antidote. Although perhaps a bit too much of an antidote, reflected Angela, shivering despite being inside at comms.   
"I brought hot chocolate!" chimed Tracer, walking in and setting the cup at the doctor's desk. "Swiss, too!"  
"Thank you, Lena."   
"It's been a few months since your visit to Oasis, Doctor. Tell me, is it really that warm?"  
"What kind of question is that?" she scoffed. "Obviously!"  
Lena giggled. "I know. Just trying to take my mind off of, well, here."  
"Yes. It can be rough. But we've got a job to do, I suppose."  
"True. I love our work. But... I really can't wait for the holidays. I need to go back home. Emmy is all alone with no-one except her vast extended family and wonderful circle of friends. I feel bad for her."  
Angela laughed at this. Sometimes, Tracer could be genuinely funny, as was the rest of the crew. But she longed for a certain acerbic wit that no-one here could provide...  
"So, what are you gonna do? Go home? Maybe take a holiday to somewhere nice and warm? Ana's taking some of the crew over to Egypt."  
"Not quite..."  
Doctor Ziegler was indeed quite excited for her vacation time.   
"Oh?" inquired Lena. "Where do you have in mind?"  
"You're going to find this rather strange, Lena." Angela began to smile at thoughts of the future. "But this time I think I'm going to Ireland."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This was a monster to write. I'm very sorry that it took so many months for me to put out this chapter. Depression and anxiety combined with everything going on COVID related has made things very difficult, and the themes of some of this text was too much to focus on, as well as me taking a hiatus from Overwatch as a game. But now it's done. My prose can be pretty awkward and spotty, but I hope the wait was worth it. It could probably be better in places, but right now I'm happy - I really love these characters. 
> 
> Also as a British trans girl, my description of British transphobia is from what I've personally seen and experienced.


End file.
